


Control

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: A short follow-up to Sun-dried tomato linguine in chicken alfredo sauce.
(Written September 2009.)





	

They were washing dishes one night when Shingo brought up what was, at least in his opinion, an important question.  
  
"Do you want to have sex?"  
  
Tsuyoshi nearly dropped the bowl he was rinsing. "Eh?"  
  
Shingo held out another soapy dish. "Sex," he repeated.  
  
Tsuyoshi rinsed both dishes carefully before responding. "Sure."  
  
"Really?" Shingo slid an arm around him, resting it against the counter on Tsuyoshi's opposite side. "You're sure?"  
  
"I'm sure." Tsuyoshi turned, and realized that he was trapped between the counter and Shingo's body.   
  
His bandmate leaned in, touching their noses together. "But you're getting embarrassed just thinking about it, aren't you?" Tsuyoshi smiled nervously, aware of the heat of Shingo's breath on his lips.   
  
Shingo closed the space, pressing brief kisses to his mouth. "I'll be gentle, then," he murmured, lowering his head to brush his lips against Tsuyoshi's neck. His hands slipped from the counter to his bandmate's waist.   
  
Tsuyoshi gripped Shingo's arms involuntarily, trying to hold on to some of his pride in what felt like a quickly losing battle. "Wait, wait, what makes you think you'll be the one on top?"   
  
He felt his bandmate grin against his neck, nuzzling his nose along the underside of his chin, and made an undignified noise as a tongue licked the skin just under his ear. "You can if you want," Shingo said. "But you have to give as good as you get." His hands slid to Tsuyoshi's back and trailed downward, and Tsuyoshi gave up all pretense of being in control.  
  
"Next time," he said, turning his head to find Shingo's mouth. The grin there turned mischievous, and when they broke apart Shingo lifted him up and carried him, protesting, into the bedroom.  
  
  
It was disconcerting, the next morning, to wake up and find Shingo in his kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator.  
  
Tsuyoshi smacked him on the rear. "Gentle, my ass."  
  
Shingo shut the door, balancing a stack of ingredients against his chest. He smirked. "Sore?"  
  
Tsuyoshi kicked at his ankles in mock anger and stumbled sleepily toward the tea kettle. He'd gotten one hand on the handle when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a chin settled on his shoulder. "Good morning," Shingo murmured, tightening his arms.   
  
Tsuyoshi smiled, and yawned. "'Morning. Want any tea?"  
  
"Please." Shingo didn't move.  
  
"Oi, I'm not a girl, you know." Tsuyoshi picked up the kettle and moved toward the sink, pulling Shingo with him.  
  
"I know."  
  
"And if you get all sappy on me, I'll you hit you over the head with this kettle."  
  
Shingo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his mouth stretching into a grin. "Says the man who made me dinner in order to confess that he loved me."  
  
Tsuyoshi turned his head to protest, but Shingo leaned forward and caught his mouth for a brief but intense moment, and then turned to attend to the jumbled stack of ingredients on the counter. "But now I'm making breakfast for you, so it's all good," he said. "Onions or no onions?"  
  
"No onions." Tsuyoshi glanced at his bandmate's back as the kettle filled under the faucet. Things were moving in new, unfamiliar, almost uncontrollable directions, and yet... nothing had changed at all.   
  
He turned back to the sink, watching as the water caught the morning sunlight. He could handle that.


End file.
